


A Kick in the Pants

by coraxes



Series: Trying Their Best [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Just gals being pals, bisexual!cassandra, bisexual!harding, coming out to yourself, lady friendships, lesbian!inquisitor, may possibly write follow-ups?, velaril lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coraxes/pseuds/coraxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra turns down the Inquisitor because she doesn't think she's attracted to women.  Scout Harding rather disagrees.  Sometimes you think you know yourself so well that you fail to realize what's really there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kick in the Pants

Cassandra had never been much of a drinker.  She preferred to be as alert as possible; if Corypheus’s archdemon swooped from the sky, she wanted to be able to hold a sword steady in her hand.  But if she couldn’t drink to push away the look on the Inquisitor’s face when Cassandra turned her down, what _could_ she drink to?

 

So she sat on her barstool at the Herald’s Rest (even the damn tavern’s name was a reminder of her, of course) and nursed the piss-smelling ale in her mug. 

 

Cassandra had known Velaril Lavellan was interested in women.  She’d known that Vel had found her attractive.  Her flirting was subtle, but it was always there, from the constant compliments about Cassandra’s form to the small gifts she’d given her.  But Cassandra hadn’t realized there were actual _feelings_ behind the flirting until their latest incursion into the Exalted Plains.

 

Vel had been angry through most of the trip, and when the Inquisitor was angry she muttered.  “The Dales belong to the Freemen!” she had muttered as she killed yet another one.  “Not the Dalish!  That would just be ridiculous!”  She’d been in such a bad mood that Cassandra was quite startled to see the Inquisitor suddenly stop, pick a wildflower blossom, and stand on tiptoe to tuck it behind Cassandra’s ear.

 

“I—thank you?” Cassandra had said uncertainly, blushing.

 

Vel had patted her cheek, just below the long scar.  “No, thank _you,_ ” she had said, and winked.

 

It wasn’t unlike the way Vel had always behaved around her; she was constantly giving Cassandra soft touches and flattering words.  But that was just it, wasn’t it?  Vel was _always_ like that around Cassandra in a way she wasn’t with anyone else.  Cassandra had never been the most perceptive person when it came to romance, but she wasn’t completely blind, and this had been going on for months, since the first time Vel had spoken to her in Haven.

 

Cassandra had hung back a little with Dorian and Sera.  Dorian and the Inquisitor were fairly close, she thought; Cassandra had run into them walking from the library, talking about history and magical techniques and literature.  “Dorian,” she had muttered, “do you think the Inquisitor has…”

 

“An enormous, painfully obvious infatuation with you?  Yes,” he had said, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Took you long enough,” Sera had sing-songed, a little too loud for Cassandra’s liking.  She’d peered at Cassandra, then glanced back at the inquisitor, and scowled.  “Look, you don’t have a problem with her liking other women, right?”

 

“No, of course not,” Cassandra had said hurriedly.  “I am just…not the same way.”

 

Sera’s scowl had deepened.  “Balls.  Well, let her down easy, will you?  Nothing like falling head-over-heels for a straight girl.”

 

So Cassandra had tried to let her friend down easy, and now she suspected she’d failed miserably; so there was only one thing for it.  And now she was trying to drown her sorrows, as cliché as it was.  She felt almost selfish doing so.  It was Velaril who had the right to be miserable, after all, not her.  But Cassandra couldn’t get rid of the hollow pit in her stomach; she couldn’t banish the image behind her eyelids of Vel’s terribly false smile when Cassandra had said, _but you’re a woman._

A stool scraped beside her, and Cassandra looked over to see Scout Harding climbing on top of it.  The dwarf nodded at her.  “Hey there, Lady Pentaghast,” she said.  Her pretty face was flushed and sweaty, and her hair was coming out of its elaborate hairstyle; when Cassandra had come in, she’d been giving the Chargers (mostly Krem) impromptu dancing lessons. 

 

“Cassandra will do, Harding,” Cassandra said tiredly.  She wasn’t in the mood for formality.

 

Harding nodded companionably and looked down at the counter.  Cassandra took another sip of her drink; she wasn’t really in the mood for conversation, either, especially since she knew Harding was a good friend of Vel’s.  Had the scout already heard about the afternoon’s events?  It wouldn’t surprise Cassandra.

 

“Hey, I know this is kind of coming from nowhere, but can I tell you a story?” Harding asked, and Cassandra looked back at her.  She was leaning on her elbows on the countertop, brow furrowed and jaw set in a hard line.  This was definitely, Cassandra thought, about Vel.  Perhaps reading Cassandra’s expression, Harding said hurriedly, “This isn’t something Vel put me up to.  Just…will you listen?”

 

Cassandra had a feeling she wouldn’t like this, but nodded anyway.  “Of course.”

 

“Ever since I can remember, when my parents or my friends or _whoever_ talked about me being with someone, it was a man,” said Harding.  “So, you know, when I liked a boy or whatever, I knew it was a crush.  I knew I liked boys. I remember there was this one boy, a human, who was one of the other shepherds where I worked.  Really nice-looking, you know?  So I’d always be sneaking peeks at him or whatever.

 

“And then one day, I saw his sister.  I don’t know if the Maker was just feeling nice when she was born or what, but _damn,_ she was the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen.  Still the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.  And I knew I didn’t like girls, right?  So I said, well, some girls are just pretty, I can notice that without wanting to kiss a girl.”  Harding shook her head, a small smile on her lips.

 

Cassandra nodded; she knew that feeling.  She’d always appreciated women’s faces and forms, even if she wasn’t interested them sexually.  Women were just…prettier than men, and even if Cassandra kept it to herself, she liked pretty things.  Vel’s face, she thought, was very nice, her black tattoos standing out starkly against nut-brown skin and accentuating the slope of her nose and cheekbones.  “I understand,” said Cassandra hesitantly.  “I feel the same.  But…”

 

Harding chuckled, and Cassandra had the distinct sensation of having been caught in a trap.  “Yeah, I thought you might.  But see, it took me a while to figure this out.  I wasn’t looking at women like I looked at paintings or statues, just because they were pretty.  I was watching women like I watched men.  I was attracted to them.  But I’d spent so long thinking that I was just into men that I didn’t think anything else was possible.”

 

Cassandra frowned.  “I see what you’re trying to say, Harding, but I think I know myself well enough—”

 

“And you might!” said Harding quickly.  “You might.  I mean, I don’t know exactly how you feel.  But I’m supposed to be observant, right?  It’s my job.  I remember one time Vel showed up in the training yard in the middle of summer in this really tight shirt and leggings; Bull got the upper hand because you kept looking her way and blushing.  Once I walked in here and saw you two giggling; your foreheads were practically touching, and you had your hand over hers on top of this book.  It didn’t seem like you even noticed.”

 

The first time…Cassandra blushed just at the memory of it.  How could she forget?  Bull certainly hadn’t let her off the hook for that day.  She had no justification for why the sight of the inquisitor in a sweat-soaked sleeveless shirt had distracted her so.  And the second time—they’d been reading poetry, Cassandra remembered, because Cassandra had let on that she liked it by accident.  Harding was wrong; she had noticed Vel’s hand under hers.  She just hadn’t known what to do with it.  Cassandra hadn’t wanted to move her hand from over the Inquisitor’s or her knee where it was pressed against Vel’s under the table.  She remembered how close Vel’s eyes were then; they were so pale blue they were almost white, and it had made Cassandra unaccountably embarrassed to realize how keenly they watched her.

 

Cassandra remained silent, thinking.

 

“You’re smiling,” Harding said, raising an eyebrow and smirking a bit herself.  Immediately, Cassandra schooled her face back into stoicism; Harding’s smirk widened.  “Maybe I’m completely off-base here, but I don’t think I am.  Just consider it, okay?”

 

Cassandra’s mouth was dry.  “I intend to,” she said.  “Thank you, Harding.”

 

The dwarf laughed.  “After the advice I’ve just given you?  You can call me Lace.”

 

* * *

 

The next day, Cassandra dressed, ate breakfast, and did not go to her usual spot by the wall to demolish more training dummies.  She knew that when Vel was upset, she sought company rather than solitude, and that usually meant Cassandra.  After yesterday’s events, Cassandra rather thought it would be Dorian, as Scout Harding—Lace—had left that morning to scout the Western Approach.

 

Cassandra fought to keep from wringing her hands as she walked into the library’s tower, clenching them together behind her back instead.  She heard Dorian and Vel bickering over the finer points of Andraste’s march, confirming her suspicion.  Dorian was facing her as she emerged from the stairs; she saw surprise on his face as she approached.

 

Velaril turned to see what Dorian was looking at, her playful scowl fading as she saw Cassandra.  Seeing the sadness on her face, knowing it was Cassandra’s own foolishness that put it there, was like a punch to the gut; Cassandra inhaled sharply.  “Hello,” Vel said neutrally, forcing up a pale imitation of her usual smile.

 

Cassandra tried to return the smile.  “Velaril,” she said, instead of her usual _inquisitor._  She had always been much more informal with Vel in her own head.“I…would like to talk to you, if you have the time.”

 

“Of course,” said Vel, and made no move to rise.

 

“Alone,” Cassandra clarified.

 

Velaril blinked.  “Oh.  Well…lead the way, then,” she said, standing and gesturing toward the door that led to the battlements.  “We’re not done here, Pavus.”

 

“Oh, I know how you never let things go,” drawled Dorian, settling back in his chair and giving Cassandra a completely unsubtle warning glare.  Cassandra was too nervous to do more than give him a nod of acknowledgement.

 

She led Velaril onto the battlements and shut the door behind them, then leaned against the stone and crossed her arms.  Vel mirrored her on the opposite side of the battlements, staring at the stone just past the toes of her boots.  “I was wrong,” Cassandra said without preamble, watching Vel’s face.  She would do that much, at least, even if Vel wouldn’t meet her eyes.  “You are the inquisitor, and it would still be inappropriate.  But you being a woman…it is not a problem.”

 

Velaril looked up at her then, her eyes wide, but she was still cautious.  “Cassandra,” she said slowly, “what are you telling me, exactly?”  She licked her lips, and for the first time Cassandra allowed herself to watch that and acknowledge that yes, she thought it was attractive.  _Vel_ was attractive. 

 

Blushing despite her best efforts, Cassandra said, “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this.  But—I want to be courted.  Properly.”

 

“Like a noble lady?” Vel asked, a trace of a smile appearing.  “Poetry, flowers, candles, courtly favors?”  She straightened, uncrossed her arms, and took a step towards Cassandra.

 

“Exactly,” Cassandra said.  Vel’s eyes held hers like a snake’s; she couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to.  And she very much did not want to. 

 

Vel took another step.  “What happened to being a battering ram?” she teased.  She was so close now that Cassandra could feel the heat of her body.

 

With anyone else, perhaps Cassandra would take offense.  But this was Vel, and she knew it was just a joke.  “With you, I would rather feel like a woman than a battering ram.”

 

Velaril nodded.  “Proper shemlen courtship,” she murmured, so close Cassandra could feel Vel’s breath on her skin.  “I think I can manage that.”

 

Proper courtship or not, Cassandra thought, if Velaril tried to kiss her now she would let her.  She broke eye contact to glance down at Velaril’s mouth, so very close to hers, and watched it curve into a broad smile.  The elf leaned in until their lips nearly brushed, and Cassandra’s breath caught in her throat, and—

 

Velaril took a step back, a satisfied smirk on her face.  “I’ll see what I can do, Lady Pentaghast,” she said, and gave a small bow before retreating through the library door.

 

Cassandra groaned; her face felt like it was on fire.  “Maker’s breath,” she said, tugging at the neck of her armor.  What had she gotten herself into?

 

**Author's Note:**

> My first character in Inquisition (Velaril, as you might have guessed) flirted with her so much and was rather heartbroken to realize she was straight. Much as I was. (Dammit, it's bioware, not heteroware!) So here's my fix for this, starring Scout Harding.
> 
> I might write follow-ups to this with the courtship, how their romance plays out, etc. as well as addressing some of the issues you might run into romancing Cassandra with a Dalish Mage who still believes firmly in her gods; it depends on what I get ideas for.
> 
> comments would be so very appreciated!!


End file.
